For this month's writing prompt write a scene using the following sentence to start;

The streets were deserted. Where was everyone? Where had they all gone?

Writing Tip

Our monthly writing tips are written by our very own TerishD. You can read more in Terish's Blog located in "The Abstractions" area of the forum.

Look Back

When not able to write ahead, it helps to look back. In my case I had written a paragraph ahead of the story. What I needed to do was add a section of exposition (talking) presenting some facts. In going back, I realized that I could insert a section where a 'tour' of the surroundings could be done. This allowed for character interaction, story development, and other things that enabled me to present the facts in an entertaining manner.

One should not face a writer's block with the mentality of bursting through it. I have found in my own experience that a writer's block is usually due to my mind indicating that it has a problem in 'channeling' the story. One reason might be a re-imagining of certain story points. Another reason however is that there is a problem in where you are at in the story, so you need to look back and find out the problem with the 'journey' that prevents the tale from advancing.

Charcoal brought me to the building again telling me that the people I would speak to were paying our usual price. Thus, while they specified me, they hired everyone who I was used to working with me. While those in the building wanted to handle things in a different manner, Charcoal reminded me that all that mattered was they were paying in the usual manner.

A security guard stepped up as soon as I began taking careful steps after moving through the door. "Pyramid Eight, I was informed that it would be senseless for me to expect you to pass through the metal detector without having it go off. Here, I can allow you to step around."

"Thank you," I said moving to the guard. "I will admit that I am armed, but I promise to have no intention of using my weapons."

"I know who you are, Pyramid Eight. If you have time on the way out, I would love to have a picture taken with you."

"I am not certain about my reason for being here, but if possible I would not mind at all."

Those words put the guard in a good spirit. He smiled as he brought me to the elevators. He made certain that the car was clear before escorting me inside. The guard then stepped in with me.

"I am not having you alone because of your weight, Pyramid Eight."

"Just Eight," I interjected.

"Okay, Eight, anyway we have plenty of fat people come through here. I am just to take you somewhere others should not have access."

"Most people do not want to actually associate with mercenaries."

"You're famous, Eight. Everyone knows about the pyramid program making cyborgs of people. It gets said every now and then by the two in research that you are the only one still fully functioning. Thus, people know you are out there, and those of us that care know how successful your mercenary team is." The bell rang, then he said, "And you should know who these people are once you meet them. I will have my camera ready when you leave, Eight."

I assured him that I would not mind, then stepped out to see a group of people sitting in chairs as if at a round table. Where the piece of furniture would be, I assumed that I was to step into the middle of them. As I did, a lady spoke to me.

"David Neibener subjected himself to his own science, and now I go by Leanna Beyonce. Our pasts are still there however, and neither of us truly died."

"I did."

I saw her grimace. It surprised me to see nothing about her that appeared to be manly. She was dressed in a very nice business suit that showed off a feminine figure. Her face had only a minimum amount of cosmetics, but such only revealed that it was the face of a lady. The hair was short and thick in a manner that no man could duplicate. I found myself grimacing in wondering what trials she had gone through due to technology.

She said, "I need you to recover someone that has not died. Exactly how much of her is alive, I cannot say. She is not a product of my science, but is as well. My husband made her, and I heard from him that my own fertilized eggs were responsible for her creation. I thus feel responsible for her. Ever since the death of my husband, she has been hidden from me. Strangely, the very technology others have gained from my husband's product, has given me the information to find her."

I replied, "Usually, information of our missions is given to Charcoal."

"I want you to know that you were personally requested, Eight." I appreciated that she now called me by what I considered my name. "Remember the Annapolis series that had been routed into driving the car?" I only nodded. "She has been in contact with others of the Annapolis series, and we feel that Mary has also been contacted."

"Mary?"

"My husband called her Mary. From all my evidence, she still prefers that name even though is surely being called something else to help hide her. If you find her, it would probably help you to call her Mary."

Since Charcoal usually handled communications, I did not know what to do other than nod. Since Charcoal was lecturing me on the way over and did not speak of what type of information to get, I hoped that he had the details. Dr. Beyonce definitely made no effort to give me data of logistics, but only facts of our objective. Wondering why I was requested to gain this information, it helped my feelings for why I was present when she provided something that would apply to me and not Charcoal.

"Eight, my science is responsible for the Annapolis series and a certain robot now being prepared to become active on the world beyond the Rothman Tube. Should you succeed, I could offer you alternate technology to improve your body."

"Why me? There are two pyramids still living that are in worse condition than me."

"They are only products of the media, Eight. They were in terrible conditions, but still alive enough that they were not taken to the site where the others were destroyed. I cannot say that they are alive, although they are kept operating at a level allowing their mechanics to be studied. The media however continues to keep them alive in peoples' minds in order not to allow such atrocities to be duplicated. However, you are the one that did survive the destruction, and the one that dealt with Annapolis Fourteen. You are thus also desired as the one that will deal with Mary. If you see them in action, and wonder why you could not have been given such a body, I want you to know that the option is available to you."

I really did not understand. My first thought would be that the offer was motivation to get me to perform at my best. I however felt she should understand my reputation for success provided enough incentive to make the rescue as quick and clean as possible. I also had been in my mechanical body long enough to become used to it. I thus could only voice my non-understanding of her statement.

"Nothing you could do would return me to being Barney."

"I thought Barney died."

That response took me by surprise, but I quickly found a response. "Nothing you could do would turn me into anything but the cyborg that I am."

"Think about it, Eight. Let me restate that – pay attention to what you are seeing. I will admit that Annapolis Fourteen probably was not the best representation of the technology, but that is because she had been reworked. What you see, either directly or in the media, is not off-limits to you."

"Let me know when you can actually turn back the hands of time, Dr. Beyonce."

She smiled, then said, "That is slightly what some are trying, Eight. Not in the way you intended, but in a way that us women find pleasing. I am entering old age, so am interested in theories with my technology to restore years to a body. I see the theories as ways to promote healing, which could directly apply to you – either to help in any further surgeries to put your remaining humanity in a new mechanical body or even to grow you an entirely new body."

"NO!" I did not mean to yell, but my embarrassment did not cause me to hush or lower my voice. "They are all dead! My wife is dead. My child is dead. Even the dog is dead. Barney is dead. Let me die."

"I am forcing nothing upon you, Eight. I however felt that you needed to hear this, and I felt that you needed to hear it from me."

Her clear direct reply let me know that the lady was used to dealing with stressful situations. I also felt that her words were accurate. I thus calmed my voice as I made my reply.

"I thank you, Dr. Beyonce. I assume that I can contact you again if I for some reason change my mind."

"Of course, Eight."

Feeling that I needed overcome my eruption, I tried to contain the situation. "Then let us leave this conversation. Is that all you had to say?"

"No, Eight, but something more personal. I want you to give me a complete analysis of Mary. Since you have a mechanical body, I feel that you will be the better person to ascertain her true health. Could you do that for me?"

The request did sound reasonable, but I knew how focused I could be while working. I also knew my areas of expertise. I thus let Dr. Beyonce know of a more reasonable option.

"Charcoal, the person that works to keep me working, might be better."

"Of course. I assume that he works closely with you."

I thought it poor that Charcoal had lectured me on my behavior, and not on particulars of the mission with which he had been supplied. I however knew that I usually did not care. Charcoal had learned to keep facts presented to me solely on what I needed to do. I did listen as Sandstorm ranted on certain specifics of our missions, but considered those moments as entertaining and not as actual specifics necessary for my study. I thus determined my response feeling that Charcoal had done the right thing in dealing with me.

"Depends on the mission. He has proven himself to be a friend. I will let him know of your request."

"Thank you, Eight. That is all."

Thinking of the security who wanted a picture with me, I replied, "Dr. Beyonce, it is nice to meet you."

She made a polite reply, then introduced me to the others seated in the room. I did recognize a number of names. Most of the men rose to actually shake hands with me. I thus left the room accepting that this mission was a little higher in profile than those I usually handled.

I did allow the security guard to take a picture with me. The act however gained the attention of others, then I had a rush of people wanting to meet me. It took Charcoal and Sandstorm coming for me to enable me to escape the building.

As we drove away, Charcoal asked, "I assume that it went well."

"You knew that we were going after Dr. Beyonce's husband's android?"

"No. I knew it was a retrieval. I was also informed that we would need to move quickly after this interview. We are thus moving to the airport right now."

Sandstorm asked, "What? Mary?"

"Yes, Mary," I answered.

"Wow. So why did Dr. Beyonce want to speak only to you?"

"It seems that Annapolis Fourteen spoke well about me. Since the Annapolis series is a development of the technology that produced Mary, it is sensed that she will recognize me."

"Okay, Eight. I guess that you take point."

I usually took it anyway, so I moved the conversation along. "Dr. Beyonce also offered to remake my body. I turned her down." These men knew me, so I felt able to make a comment. "She cannot save me from Hell."

Charcoal said, "No, Eight, but you know that my wife and daughters will tell you that you can save yourself. Honestly, Eight, you need to listen."

"I believe you are the ones not listening."

Sandstorm said, "All right. Let us get this mission done, then we can hash this out again. Right now, focus."

"Thanks," I replied.

"We got a reputation, Eight. Still, you have a soul, and it's not in Hell yet. Thus, I believe you need to realize that you can avoid Hell. That is all I am going to say however. Charcoal is right. His wife and daughters speak enough on the subject. At the moment we however have work. Let's get to it"

_________________Fantasy puts more requirements on the writer than any other fiction, because the world must be made as real before anything else can be real.Adult Christian fiction quite different than all the usual lame stuff in that market. "Dilemma of Dreams" now in hard back.

Last edited by TerishD on April 18th 2015, 11:04 am; edited 2 times in total

Charcoal received instructions as our plane gained altitude. As the pilot turned in the necessary direction, we gathered to consider the specifics of our operation. The factory that produced the Annapolis series was in the country, but it seemed had a research laboratory out away from any local zoning requirements. Our instructions were to infiltrate the estate and retrieve Mary alive and unharmed with minimum loss of the lives of others.

With my mechanical body and the personalities of my companions, stealth was not our method of operation. We would however use subterfuge when at all possible. I however did not have the mentality for such. I thus rested while listening to Sandstorm and Charcoal debate possible tactics. As I expected, the final decision about how we would perform our mission fit our usual method of operation.

"Okay, Eight," Sandstorm said, "we are going to acquire a van from an electronics company who usually does maintenance work at the estate. I will handle negotiating the van. You and Charcoal will get into it while I do. We then drive up to the estate, and hopefully get past the gate. If all goes well, we return the van, get back on the plane with Mary, then go home.

Charcoal added, 'The chance of it going so well is zilch to none, but I came prepared for that."

He had been the weapons guy when I first met him, and I had since learned to trust his ability with handling things that needed to be treated delicately. My body operated without problems, as did our armaments. I thus trusted Charcoal, and calmly watched as he assured himself of what weapons we had and how much ammo we had for them.

There was a place where our plane could use its VTOL capabilities to drop us off safely. The process of coming down was fairly standard procedure for us. While there was a small city nearby, our plane came in and left with probably no more awareness from the locals than the usual people who called in UFO reports.

We had no choice but to walk to our first objective. Even in this country, the amount of weaponry upon our persons would have gained the notice of the local authorities. They usually however would just observe us, and if we moved on without incident they would not signal any alarm. We walked to the side of the store without any anyone forcing us to make a choice about our behavior.

By the time I was settled in the back of the van with our gear, Sandstorm was climbing into the driver's seat. "Two thousand, but the man promised a refund of fifteen hundred should we bring the van back in good condition."

Charcoal asked, "How did you manage that?"

"Not too certain, but there was also a work order delivered to the estate. He said that it was not unusual for him to send in a team to perform network maintenance."

"I couldn't crack it."

"Well, he said that it was glitchy."

There was silence except for the van starting and moving into traffic, then Charcoal said, "Do you trust this?"

I heard the rattle of weapons before Sandstorm answered, "Definitely." There were chuckles with me snickering as well when he told me, "Be ready to move, Eight."

The ride was actually rather peaceful. Charcoal and Sandstorm did make soft comments, which helped let me know our general location. I looked at the walls of the van hoping that the equipment set on racks in it would protect me from bullets. I however found things peaceful as the vehicle slowed down with Sandstorm and Charcoal trading comments about how to handle the guard.

I heard the one at the gate say, "You're not the usual guys."

Sandstorm answered, "The usual guys have not fully resolved your problems. We're good, or at least that is what we claim."

I heard weapons readied when the guard said that he would have to check. Charcoal whispered to Sandstorm a question about the work order, but I guess only a shrug came in return. I assured the two that my weapons were ready before I shushed to silence.

The guard said, "They must suspect something. You guys are not to go to the house. You are to head to the laboratory."

Sandstorm asked, "Suspect something?"

"I guess they found the problem. I got a message saying that what you were looking for was not in the house, but in the laboratory basement."

Sandstorm thanked the guard, then started the van moving. He and Charcoal then however erupted into speaking about not trusting the situation at all. I felt all us should have already more than prepared ourselves for trouble, but I went over my weapons again as I heard Sandstorm and Charcoal do the same.

There was a pause where I was told that a garage door was opening for us. I saw the flash of red as Sandstorm drove the van out of the sunlight. He and Charcoal again checked their weapons before they told me to exit the vehicle.

We loaded up with our more dangerous weapons and all our ammo as we watched the movement of red lights. The sight let us know that the facility was expecting trouble. None of us felt that we would prevent their suspicions from becoming real, although we had a reputation of obtaining our objective and leaving in good condition.

One of the elevators opened as we approached. We however did not enter. Sandstorm opened the stairwell but after looking for a moment he made a report.

"They sealed the route down. We are going to have to find a way down."

The elevator dinged three times. All of us cursed as we fully suspected a trap. I stepped into the car first, then lifted a roof panel to assure that things were clear above us. With my signal, Sandstorm and Charcoal entered. No sooner did the two join me than the elevator door closed and began a descent.

We really did not drop over two floors. Our weapons were however set to deliver destruction and pain. Seeing the elevator door open into a quiet hallway did not have us feel at ease. Charcoal dropped to the floor before looking both ways, then spun to sit while changing out his ammo.

I whispered the question, "Tranqs?"

Charcoal replied, "Uh, in case the things happening are friendly. Things just do not seem right, so I would prefer us not being the ones starting the trouble."

I do not argue with my boss. Sandstorm will, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. We all allowed our boss to act as he felt proper, although moved after hearing his weapon fire.

As Charcoal moved low to check the body, he turned to focus down a corridor that terminated into the one we were on. His weapon fired. As Sandstorm moved the body out of view of those in the other corridor, Charcoal issued a command.

"Okay, we will follow the guards. Down this corridor."

The alarm burped. We looked to each other. With his face declaring just how suspicious he was about things, he issued another command.

"I am going to go down this corridor and retrieve the guard. With them both out of the way, we will continue along this corridor."

Things stayed silent. Sandstorm went with Charcoal to assure a quick and safe movement of the unconscious guard. With it being less obvious that we had been moving through the facility, we proceeded down the initial corridor as silently as possible for us.

Going down we did not see others, but at the next junction were two guards down the alternate corridor. Sandstorm also readied a tranquilizer, then he told me to step out into the other corridor. I actually knew the maneuver, so smiled as I made myself visible to the guards. One turned with the other stepping to his side as they prepared to issue a challenge. Sandstorm and Charcoal however stepped forward and fired before any statement could be made. Both guards dropped unconscious.

Before any other movement was made, Charcoal clearly said, "We will now go down to the door the guards were stationed at."

No sound was heard. We thus advanced. The door was metal with an old-fashioned key lock. Sandstorm checked the pockets of the guards and pulled out three key chains. Two looked like personal belongings, but one on a ring connected to a large metal plate we all suspected to hold the key we needed. The voice of a girl piped up as we checked the lock.

"I hope you are to bring me to Mommy."

Charcoal asked, "Are you Mary?"

I moved to look into the room. The girl could not have been that old. I would say younger than ten. She however had pink hair. Something told me that her hair color was not due to a dye, and I looked at her attempting to determine what I could about her.

She answered with a buoyant smile on her face, "Yes, I am Mary. I am so glad to be rescued. Now, we cannot go back the way you came in. They have the elevators locked. However, there is another way to the garage."

Sandstorm said, "Okay, Mary, I guess that we can trust you. I am Sandstorm. This is Charcoal, and he is Eight."

"Eight?"

I declared, "Yes, Eight."

Mary approached me while saying, "No, you cannot be Eight. That's not right. We are not machines. We are people. We have names. They were calling me Prototype, but I am not a product. My name is Mary Worsheim. I have a Mommy, and did have a Daddy until he died. You had a Mommy and Daddy, so must have a name as well."

"The man that I was died – committed suicide. I am not just someone who is not yet facing his eternal punishment. I am just what I am."

She appeared very displeased with my words. I believe Charcoal checked for any belongings that might need to be taken with us as Sandstorm mentioned that we needed to be going. Mary did not provide instructions, but kept her focus on me.

"You're a Pyramid, right?" I only nodded with her smiling as I did so. "Can I thus call you Perry?"

"Perry?"

Her pink locks bounced as he quickly nodded before saying, "Yes. It is a name. You should have a name."

Not really caring, I answered, "Yes, you can call me Perry."

"Okay, good." She grabbed my hand, then said "Come on, Perry, we need to go this way."

_________________Fantasy puts more requirements on the writer than any other fiction, because the world must be made as real before anything else can be real.Adult Christian fiction quite different than all the usual lame stuff in that market. "Dilemma of Dreams" now in hard back.

Mary pulled on my arm. She paused when Charcoal asked her about clothes. She mentioned the perverts looking after her fondled her clothes and smelled them when they could not get to her. I believe that she was about to say something more, but a disgusted expression told me that she would rather not think about whatever it was. Mary put a smile back on her face, then said for us to follow her.

Sandstorm had to ask, "Why can't we go back the way we went in?"

"Because they know you are here." She pointed to a security camera while saying, "I am aware, but only able to affect things in this building, and that is because I knew what wires were behind a panel in my cell. With me going with you, I cannot even do that. They will know."

I said, "None of us liked using the elevator."

Charcoal looked over the room once more, and I heard a plate move as if he had found the panel Mary had used. "Okay, follow her."

She pointed and commanded, "Shoot out the security cameras."

Sandstorm handled that duty. Mary then told me to remove a section of the wall at the end of the hallway. I considered that it would be easy. Instead of a flat wall section blending in with those on the right and left, there was a white plexiglass plate screwed into the end wall. Not having a screwdriver on me, I just set my hands and pulled the flat piece of plexiglass off the wall. While it did bend, it did not do enough to have it break. I set the piece to the side looking to the door beyond feeling glad to have done the duty.

Mary said, "I was hoping you would have removed it in a manner that would have allowed us to set it back. Now they would know which way we took."

Charcoal moved past us to the door while saying, "Hopefully we will be gone by then."

The door was locked, but that was one issue quickly dealt with. We might not have had screwdrivers with us, but we did have a crowbar. If the door had a sturdy seal, there would have been no need to cover it. Charcoal did not need to ask for my mechanical strength, but with the tool he managed to pop the door open.

We had no more moved down the steps before we stopped smelling something nauseating. The lack of light did not bother us, as we had illumination. As we looked down to see greenish-brown good on the floors, Mary gave us an explanation of our surroundings.

"I tried to work with my sisters in escaping, so they sealed the stairwells. What we have here is an accumulation of the gases from algae and fungi along with other contaminants." She appeared to take a large breath, then said, "Nothing is harmful, although the air quality is not pure."

Charcoal knew his duty as leader, so strongly followed her words with commands. "All right, nothing harmful, so we keep moving."

It might not have been harmful, but it looked dangerous and smelled horrible. We had gone through some terrible terrain in our time however, so managed it well enough. While we tried to carefully choose our steps, I believe we thought about having our clothes seriously cleaned, if not burnt, when we got back. We all surely had thoughts about the harmful nature of the stuff we moved through, as it took only a sudden movement from Mary to have us stop.

She pointed and said, "Security camera."

Sandstorm raised his rifle, took time to aim I feel certain due to the serious lack of light, but then fired with Mary confirming a good shot. Charcoal asked about the location of the exit. She paused for a time, then spoke about something else.

"They have released a sentry robot – two."

Charcoal asked, "Where and anything special about taking it out?"

"It will use fire. Nothing down here will be bothered by limited extreme heat." I believe her foot stepped in some of the plant goo, as she made a sound before adding, "At least nothing they care about."

I heard Sandstorm exchange rounds in his rifle as he said, "Armor piercing."

"They operate by battery, and use the limited time-loop generators as operates most of my body. It won't be easy to take out."

"You are saying to just fill it with holes, aren't you sweetie?"

"Sweetie?" The tones had me feeling that Mary was about to get mad, but she quickly calmed her voice to say, "Yes, fill it with holes."

I check my rounds, then stepped up with Sandstorm while saying, "That can be done, Mary."

Charcoal identified the route to the door even as Sandstorm and I set eyes on the sentry robots. They were box-like, except for rounded edges. As soon as he set sights on one, it began firing. I believe the only reason it did not hit was due to his own rounds striking the robot. If Sandstorm had begun firing a partial second later, the rounds from the robot would have sent his aim slightly off.

Seeing his exchange with one robot, I took a different tactic with the other. I first fired an incendiary round. I knew the robot could take the heat, but I trusted the smoke from what it did to the scum on the floor to at least partially obscure its sight. I then shot heavy rounds into the top section thinking to take out any circuitry controlling its logic. My tactic had my exchange much more lopsided in my favor, so I smiled at Sandstorm as we advanced.

It helped my expression and soured his when Mary hugged me while saying, "You did it a much better way, Perry."

Sandstorm replied, "I don't have all the rounds his mechanical body can carry."

We all just looked at Mary as she then listed all the weapons that he did carry on his person. She even listed his ammo. Mary then stated what armaments I had on my person, concluding that for the exchange with the robots Sandstorm could have made better use of his equipment.

He replied, "In the future, assuming we have the time, I will consult with you about tactics."

I believe Charcoal sought to keep our heads cool by saying, "This lady is a lot different than the Annapolis series we previously worked with."

Mary said, "Yes. Daddy made me special, as he wanted me to be something special. The Annapolis series, and the series they are now developing are not as aware as I am."

Sandstorm began to advance while saying, "No wonder they were protecting you."

"At first it was bad, as they wanted to know how I was made. Even then they wanted to know about my private parts. I was not made for sex, but they wanted to know what was in the way down there. Now they are desiring a series just for sex, and come back to me to look between my legs."

I believe Charcoal knew that we lost our focus listening to such talk, so said, "All right, you can tell your stories to Dr. Beyonce once we bring her to you."

"Oh, yes, Mommy! That way."

We came to the stairwell and looked up to see concrete with Charcoal saying, "We knew that."

I knew the tone of voice. He was admitting that he was aware of the problem, but had forgotten its importance in the immediate situation. Mary seemed to understand his tone of voice, as she cheerfully let us know that things were not as bad as they appeared.

"It can be moved. If they had wanted to permanently seal it, they would have just flooded it with concrete. There are pins that will release the slab."

Charcoal moved up to examine the concrete slab. As he did I had to admit that it would have been easier to just fill the stairwell instead of going to the trouble to make a block to just seal the top. Charcoal stepped back while making a suggestion about how to deal with the slab.

"Listen, we will need two charges to blast up through the seam. That should cut through the pins, or at least reduce their integrity enough that they will no longer be able to support the slab."

Sandstorm and I looked to our boss. He was the explosives expert. While his skills usually went in assuring the quality of our rounds, that knowledge supported the fact that he knew how to handle and set explosive materials. Sandstorm and I thus smiled after Charcoal paused to simply say that he would get on it.

Mary moved up with him, and I listened as she told him things about the seam and the pins themselves. That had Charcoal ask her about how much knowledge she had access to. She went quiet for a time, except for some suggestions about how to improve the placement of the charges. Finally, as I believe Charcoal was setting the wiring for the explosives, I heard Mary answer the questions.

"Those are my memories of Daddy. He kept me in stasis while helping me deal with the extreme amount of information I could perceive. He kept saying so many good things to me. Those who took me could not really understand how I worked, because I was so complicated with most of it being my ability to simply understand what I could detect. My sisters, the Annapolis series and the ones now being developed, are nothing like me."

Charcoal replied, "We have rescued Annapolis number fourteen. She was incorporated into a car. She seemed to be all mechanics."

"Yes, as they are basically just a nervous system. I am mostly mechanical as well, but if you hurt me I bleed. There is a girl here, but my body has grown up around a mechanical form. I cannot say exactly how Daddy did it, but he managed something that no one else has taken the time and effort to achieve, even if they could comprehend how he did it."

"Well, I am glad to have gotten a chance to know you, Mary Worsheim. Your mother is something special as well. I believe that you will be glad to gain a life with her."

"I have gathered every piece of evidence about Mommy that I could. Some is strange, but it only shows her to be one-of-a-kind like me. I know that she had been looking for me. I want her to know that I have been trying to get to her."

Charcoal mumbled a few things, then asked, "What do you say, Mary? You agree that the charges are set properly?"

_________________Fantasy puts more requirements on the writer than any other fiction, because the world must be made as real before anything else can be real.Adult Christian fiction quite different than all the usual lame stuff in that market. "Dilemma of Dreams" now in hard back.

The safest way to handle explosives was by using wires. The problem in our line of work was however having to carry all that dead weight. Charcoal basically wore the wire as his belt, but a number of wraps around his waist still did not supply enough distance to make him happy. Experience had taught us that he had just enough, although it was still dangerous for him to activate the explosives.

The blast did send concrete shards flying, but our clothes did a good job of protecting us from shrapnel. Charcoal also had a face plate to protect vital organs, if not just his looks. Through the dust I thus did expect to see him unharmed.

As loud as the explosives were, it bothered me more to hear a boom. The rumbling sound afterwards did not make me feel at ease. Hearing Charcoal and Sandstorm make loud cheerful exclamations however let me know that the explosives did their job.

The pins had indeed been impaired enough for the weight of the slab to overcome their work. The concrete had dropped, then slid down the stairs. Charcoal moved forward letting us know that the slab no longer prevented us from moving up into the car garage.

The doors to the parking lot were closed, but no personnel were set to take us into custody. That was wise, as we would not have responded in a submissive way. We quickly moved across the parking area to load up in the van while planning our next move.

Bazookas were just too big to carry around. just on a possibility that you might need them. This was especially true when you knew you would be moving through a building not wanting to cause more harm than necessary. In the car garage with the doors shut, one however had space and the need to cause major destruction. I thus tossed in some weapons that I had not used to grab the bazooka that I fully intended felt to now need.

Mary put her hand on my arm. I looked to her to tell her to back up. She however had the features of one concentrating on something. I thus waited for Mary to let me know the reason for coming to me.

"It works by means of an electronic signal, but they have it jammed. You will need to blow it."

"That was my intention," I replied.

She smiled, then said, "Actually, I could tell that just by looking at you. I receive so much information, that usually my eyes serve little purpose. I don't have to sense things about you, however, but can just tell by looking at you."

"Well, you probably do not need to use your eyes, as I have sensors all through my body. Charcoal can hook me up his computer and know most of the things he needs to fix. It thus would be a little silly for me to try and hide things about me."

"After being around people who tried to make me think one thing while they really intended something else, it is nice to face honesty."

Charcoal moved up to grab the girl's shoulder while saying, "Well, honestly, move back. What he is about to do is dangerous."

Mary did allow him to take her back a distance. With an 'All clear,' I fired the missile. It quickly crossed the distance and exploded upon impact with the garage door.

Before the smoke and dust had begun to settle, Mary said, "Korlocks."

Without speaking anything, I heard the sounds of weapons being exchanged. I had arms for dealing with the aliens as well. After running into them when attempting to escape with the Annapolis series, we made certain to have solutions to their problems. As in the time before, I heard the sounds of a boy attempting to make himself a threat.

"Oh, no, Mary is my little peach. She surely has answers to the questions I seek."

With a mechanical body, I could support the serious armament. I did carry certain weapons with me, but there were others set within my body. The intent was to never have me fully disarmed. While I moved to discard the bazooka, I had a certain section of my body prepare a weapon for the new threat.

Sandstorm came near me with a special weapon while yelling, "Coming upon mercenaries in the line of duty will get you answers to questions we all seek."

No, I did not wait for confirmation from Charcoal. We were mercenaries, independents, so he knew to allow some unauthorized activities. Feeling that enough had been said, I set myself to use my own armament.

While bullets would have probably hurt the kid, who I knew to be a foreskin called Al B2, everyone mentioned the real problem being the creatures that he traveled with. Unlike those who piloted and rode in UFOs, these aliens were very real. They could also do horrible damage to a person should they get a hold with them. The bodies would be somehow drained of water and other nutrients leaving behind just a white substance that would not pass a forensic test of once being human. I thus did not worry about the kid, who never seemed to be armed himself, but about the creatures he traveled with.

The pulse my weapon generated spread the dirt on the ground, but did so in a direction away from us. Thus, I saw what the round from the bazooka had done to the garage door. I guess that Charcoal and Sandstorm did as well, as they yelled for us to get going. I however remembered the wild driving we had to do when rescuing Annapolis Fourteen, so allowed my weapon to recharge while looking for other signs of trouble.

Mary came up to me, then pointed to our left. I fired. Cannot say that I heard any screams this time or the one before. Because I wanted something to talk about, and just because I did not know, I asked Mary a question.

"Am I really hurting them?"

"I believe that you are," she replied.

Charcoal however interrupted any conversation by commanding, "Eight, into the van!"

Mary spun to declare, "His name is Perry! He is not a machine!" I felt her hand tug on an arm while she softly said, "I am not a machine either. I have a Mommy and Daddy. I am a person."

I set my weapon back into place while replying, "We are both products of our time. The future is Hell, but we do not have the option of living in the past."

She hugged me even as I tried to direct her to the vehicle, and I heard her say, "Thank you. Yes, we are products of our time, but still people. Daddy said that I could help assure that our world stayed a good place. I will do that by first assuring that you retain your humanity. I cannot hold onto my own if I allow others also merged with machinery to lose theirs."

She joined me in moving to the back of the van. I had her go inside first. Instead of following Sandstorm's directions to settle in the space between the two front seats, she stopped to point around to the equipment set in the racks against each wall and name them. As I instructed her to find a seat so I could fully enter the back of the van, she spoke of seldom being able to actually see most of the things she had information on in her head.

As the vehicle started, she said, "The spark plug in the third cylinder is about to go out. You also need to change the fuel filter, as the vehicle has been not filled with clean gas."

Charcoal stated, "Mary, this vehicle is a loaner. All we need for it to do is get us back to where we can meet our plane."

She named off a number of a plane with her saying, after Charcoal stopped her to verify that was ours, "I guess they are waiting for you. I cannot read peoples' minds."

Sandstorm replied, "It would not help you if you could, Sweetie, as people constantly change their minds. Now hold on."

The van roared as Charcoal had it quickly accelerate. Sandstorm fired his rifle from his seat. Charcoal had to drive, but still managed to stick out a hand and have a machine gun spray lead. Both were good shots, but I had no way of seeing if they were hitting their targets or even trying. Concerned that we did want anyone following, I opened the rear doors prepared to fire lethal rounds at anyone that accelerated to catch our van.

I did not see bodies behind us, so I assumed that my two companions were simply attempting to scare away the hired help. I however did see some people climbing into vehicles. What caused me to choke was seeing the mist-like form of an alien grab on man standing at an open door about to enter the humvee and a scream before he became a mass of powder. Seeing a boy jump in the vehicle, I set my aim to stop the machine before it could attempt to follow us.

The yell of Charcoal however disrupted my focus, "Brace for impact!"

My arms shot out to press a hand against each wall of the van. I felt us strike something. Luckily, it was not as sturdy as a wall. As we roared by the guard post, I saw half of the railing to stop traffic not present.

Charcoal asked, "Do you think we might as well forget about that fifteen hundred?"

Sandstorm replied, "I don't know. I shot the metal some, so it had been weakened before you hit it. Maybe the dent won't show that clearly."

"How are you two back there?"

I felt Mary on my back, but I spoke of another concern. "We have that alien kid following. Will be attempting to knock his vehicle out of commission."

The arm of the girl stuck out beside my face as she declared, "There are flying aliens also, Perry!"

I changed my weapons while commenting, "A pulse should not make it easy to keep that humvee on the road."

Considering that the pulse spread out, I did not consider it an accurate weapon. I thus pulled the trigger as soon as I saw my target in the sights. My smile from seeing the alien dissipate quickly disappeared seeing two more fill in the hole. While I waited for the weapon to charge back up, I gave some instructions to the girl on my back.

"Mary, check the battery and let me know its charge."

"Sixty-three percent," she replied without me feeling her move at all. "I do not recognize this energy signature, except that it has something to do with Mommy's technology. Some of it helps power me, so I know it, but this is different."

Those words did not bother me as much as Sandstorm saying, "Damn, we have those floating things coming to our side and from above."

I heard the signal of the weapon again being charged, but before I could pull the trigger on my chosen target I felt us go weightless. That did not stop me. I pulled the trigger.

Mary yelled, "We are in a Rothman Tube!"

Sandstorm loudly replied, "What? Those things open into outer space."

Charcoal said, "Yes, although I doubt it will matter that we have our windows open."

_________________Fantasy puts more requirements on the writer than any other fiction, because the world must be made as real before anything else can be real.Adult Christian fiction quite different than all the usual lame stuff in that market. "Dilemma of Dreams" now in hard back.